Trusting You
by Miss-Murdered
Summary: "Tonight was about giving control away and receiving, not giving, and I would not struggle against my bonds nor try and break them. Instead I would surrender to the only man who had ever had me like this as I trusted him not to break me. Only him. Only Duo." 2x1. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing (still… )

Pairing: 2x1

Warnings: m/m sexual relations of the explicit variety, D/S, light bondage, bad language, dirty talk, sap, PWP – what would've been called a "soulful PWP" back in the day

A/N: Beta'd by ELLE.

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><p><strong>Trusting You <strong>

The material over my eyes was thick, soft, velvety and I could see nothing through it. It was the same material that ties my wrists above my head to the bedpost and while I could break through my bonds, remove the blindfold, I chose not to, as tonight I am not in control and neither do I want to be. I was happy as I was – wearing only boxer briefs and a blindfold, waiting – waiting for him.

He left me here some time ago. I could have kept track but he told me not to – nor did I want to. This was part of relinquishing control – that I didn't lay on our bed and count the seconds since his departure, since he tied me up, secured my blindfold and kissed me, then crawled off the bed and left. I didn't as I wanted this to be about what he'd planned. About me letting down my defences and letting him in. Letting control slip through my fingers and trusting him with my body. He already had my heart and soul. And he had had my body before – but never like this.

I heard him enter despite how stealthily he walked. I imagined him, tight black clothing, serrated blade in hand, a walk that was a prowl – predatory, panther-like and I knew he wasn't in mission mode but still that image was one that made my dick twitch, half hard for some time as I'd thought about him and us and how fucking perfect he was.

He thought I was the perfect one – mono-focused, calculating, careful and cautious but to me he was perfect chaos – and that wild grin, that "do it or die trying" attitude and his recklessness made him perfection. My opposite. Everything I ever needed.

As he reached the bed, I heard something being set down on the side table and it clinked but I had little time to assess or register the noise as there was the dip in the bed that indicated he'd joined me. Then I felt him, his thighs straddling my waist, his ass resting on my abs and his braid trailing down and brushing my groin and my hardening cock.

"Duo." I said it through dry lips as though in reverence and I heard a muted laugh – not cruel or maniacal but gentle, loving, for me.

His hands ran along my arms where they were bound, travelling up to my wrists.

"You can get outta these, can't you, Heero?"

I didn't deny it. I could. "Yes."

He leaned forward, his mouth close enough to mine that I felt the ghost of a breath. "Do you wanna get out?"

"No."

I didn't want to – tonight was about giving control away and receiving, not giving, and I would not struggle against my bonds nor try and break them. Instead I would surrender. I had fucked and made love to others, I had been both fucked and made love to myself but only one man had ever had me like this as I trusted him not to break me. Only him. Only Duo.

Just as on a mission, he would give me a cocky half-smile and a wink with the line "do ya trust me?" Now he could use the same line and I would wholeheartedly say yes. I trusted him with every part of me.

He leaned back then, his weight on my abs, and I realised then a difference in the feel of the material that covered his ass and I recognised it from some of my previous female one night stands. Lace.

Maybe he knew I knew as fingers trailed over my chest and my brain caught up with the alluring image. I had never asked Duo for anything in our sex life as it fulfilled me more than any other relationship I had been in. He could ooze "fuck me" out of every pore when he wanted to – and I rose to that challenge. But maybe he knew I appreciated the aesthetic or maybe he was being a tease.

"Lace?"

"Yeah," he answered.

I assumed black but I asked nonetheless. "Black?"

"Red."

I groaned then – unable to help the pathetic sound that fell from my lips and I tested my bonds instinctively, my hands wanting to touch. It was as much a test of my control as the restraints as the image of how he looked played across my closed eyelids. How the red would look against his pale skin. How the lace would. How I wanted to release myself from the material that tied my hands and remove my blindfold, touch him, throw him down on the bed, fuck him – damn enticing to do it. But I only struggled that once and I heard his murmured "good boy" as though he knew my internal battle and my thoughts. He knew me too damn well.

I earned a kiss it seemed, his lips pressing against mine as his fingers slid down my sides, my muscles jumping instinctively at his touch – made all the more powerful by the fact I couldn't see or anticipate his moves. His lips left mine yet his face hovered just above mine.

"You're so damn hot, 'Ro."

I didn't know whether he was being literal or not but he wriggled back into my lap, my dick fully hard from his attention and he ground his body into mine a little before stopping.

"And so fuckin' hard for me."

His hand wrapped around me through the cotton of boxer briefs and a gasp came from my lips as I felt his firm grip.

"I love that I can get you like this, babe."

He stroked a few times and then he was leaning over to retrieve something, his body close enough to breathe him in as he completed his task.

"I think I got a way to cool you down," he said.

I tensed, old reflexes kicking in as I felt the droplets of water against my face and then ice was ran across my lips. My tongue followed it, licking at the coldness and I opened my mouth as Duo descended to kiss me, rolling the cube between our mouths, our tongues, the contrast of cold with the kiss dizzying. He ground down onto me, me feeling the lace, and I pathetically moved up into his body, creating friction against him, wanting to be close, wanting to hold him close but unable to so due to the material around my wrists and my promise to him.

The cube had almost fully melted and Duo pulled back. I heard the tinkle of ice against glass – now fully understanding – as he leant over and collected another cube. This time I knew it would not be as simple as shared between our lips and I tried to relax as it was rubbed against my jaw, down my throat, a line of water left in its wake. The cold was followed by the warmth of lips, tongue and Duo's mouth as he continued his torture, ice circling my nipples and Duo tracing that circle with the tip of his tongue as I shivered – and not just from cold but from his teeth as well as he worried the left one while the ice continued around the other. My dick pulsed, the front of my briefs damp as I knew I was far too fucking turned on and I wanted to release my hands then – wanted to stop the torment as I bucked up – but I endured it as his hand sought out another ice cube. This time he slid it down my abs, down to my naval, Duo using the flat of his tongue to collect the water and I moaned then, loudly, as the ice was left in the dip of my belly button, pooling and melting as he got another piece. I jerked as this one went lower, into the hair on my lower stomach that Duo called "my happy trail" with a little smirk.

I anticipated his next action before he did it but I was powerless to stop it due to a promise.

"Fuck!" I hissed and he laughed as the ice was slid underneath the waistband of my briefs and it made contact with my cock, the cold causing a shock to my system and a desire to kick out at the teasing bastard.

Yet as much as I wanted to, I only tensed against the restraints and thrashed my head, a laugh heard as he lowered the briefs and the cold sensation was gone as Duo's lips kissed at the head of my cock, lapped at it in some form of apology, and then I wished I could see him. However, I knew that the lack of vision made everything feel so much more intense so I didn't complain. I didn't need to see him suck me off.

I knew he enjoyed going down on me – liked the power trip, liked that I became pathetic, needy, his lips and mouth far too talented – and I admit, I enjoyed him doing this almost as much as I enjoyed sex with him. Yet usually when he did, I watched. Watched the way he'd close his eyes and then crack one open as he licked down the length of my cock, the way my dick slid between his lips, the way he would look up to check my expression, my responses. I liked to hold his hair, wrap his braid around my hand as he sucked, as he let me thrust upwards into his mouth, and I couldn't do any of those things.

I could only submit as he removed my boxer briefs, felt his tongue lick at the slit, tasting me, and then his mouth descending, bobbing back up and then back down, his hands on my hips to stop me from moving.

I panted now, my chest still damp from the melted ice and a pool of water on my stomach yet all I could concentrate on was the warmth of his mouth, the suction, the sensation of his hand lowering to my balls and the vibrations of him moaning around my cock. My body tensed, the intensity of being left alone, my thoughts of all our previous times in my head, the sensations so much more powerful when I was blindfolded and restrained, all culminating to mean that I was far too close, far too quickly. When Duo's mouth moved to lick down the underside, to kiss and mouth and tease me, I warned him with a low, moaned, drawn out version of his name, my stomach muscles contracting, the feeling of climax rolling over me and he swallowed me as deeply as he could and released his grip on my hips, letting me thrust upwards and come, hard, my wrists almost breaking the bonds as I did.

I felt him suck on me as I relaxed back against the bed and then his lips left my cock with a soft noise, his tongue cleaning me before I could sense him move to leaning over me, his face close and I opened my mouth, mumbling an apology, but all he did was kiss me, the taste of me on his lips and despite the fact I had just come, I was always able to be aroused by him, the way his braid thumped against my chest, the way his fingers teased and pinched by nipples, fluttered over my abs and I kissed him back in appreciation, my body still high from him sucking my cock.

"Thank you," I said quietly when his lips finally left mine and I could sense his smile, imagine it, the way his eyes crinkled at the corner now, a sign that he wasn't the boy I'd been intrigued by in the middle of a war but the man I had fallen in love with.

"I'm not done with you. That was just a little warm up."

If my eyes had been visible, he would have perhaps seen the look that I was giving him but instead, I could only feel his body move and his feet softly hit the carpeted floor and move away.

"What are you doing?"

I could sense his location from his movement and I knew that he had stopped at my question. "_You _might have got off but I haven't and you need time to recover, babe. You ain't fifteen anymore."

The sound I made was damn needy as I realised what he was implying. I didn't even take the recovery comment badly – my masculine pride unaffected as I felt myself already stirring at the thought of what would be happening in another room.

"Will you think of me?"

"Always do, 'Ro."

And with that comment, I was alone again, my body still thrumming from where his lips had wrapped around my cock. Yet I couldn't help but imagine him touching himself, the way he'd tease his nipples, flick at them, run his fingers over his abs, close his eyes. I liked to watch him jerk off, especially if he didn't know but then he always knew – always gave me that little look as he stroked himself – and I found nothing more captivating than watching him pant, moan, come while his thoughts were of me. I know he did little things when I watched that were solely for me but that's why I loved the bastard even when he teased me. Even now when he was probably touching himself in another room.

Frustrated, I moved a little, the bed a little damp due to melted ice and I waited again, hot again, wanting him again – half hard again. I could never understand this power he had over me.

It had taken us ten years to get to this. He had been my first during the war – first kiss, hand job, blow job, fuck. Yet after that we went our separate ways – life and work and different wants. He wanted peace, normality, and I wanted a gun and the fight. It only lasted so long before Duo needed action again, only so long before he was walking into Preventer HQ wearing sunglasses and tight jeans and walking out with a job. Inevitably we ended up partnered, years of it, our combined history meaning that we shared lingering looks but nothing more – both of us having a revolving door of unsuitable partners – until I kissed him with bloody lips, a mission gone wrong, and if we had been going to die, if it was over for us, then I wanted one last time with him, one last touch. It had been brutal, painful, I had cracked ribs, he had a broken wrist but we still ground our bodies together, hands in each other's pants, kissing bruised mouths until we came against each other, breathing in the smell of sweat and lingering violence.

Needless to say we survived. That mission was over a year ago now and while we were hardly a conventional couple, we had a level of domesticity, a home and a fulfilling sex life that led me to being tied up, hard and wanting. It had taken us time to get to here – to become the men we needed to become before we could work together as a couple – and it was only him that fit me perfectly – who understood, who grinned at my wartime hang-ups, who made me be the man I had always wanted to be.

And while I felt admiration for him, love for him, I was still frustrated as time trickled past and I imagined what he was supposedly doing and contemplated whether it was a tease or if he actually was. It didn't matter either way as his plan had worked. I was aroused and frustrated, which I'm sure was his intention.

When I heard him, finally, walking around the apartment, I bit my bottom lip to attempt to stop myself from moving, aware that I was probably breaking his "rules" if I did. As he entered the room, I heard a noise from low in his throat and a moment later he was on the bed, this time with no tease. His lips were on mine, hungry, needy, and I didn't need to know whether he touched himself thinking of me or not – all I needed was for him to touch me. And he did, his long fingers sliding down, teasing, slick, and me not aware when he'd managed that feat or if he'd come prepared. Fuck if I cared as he slid one finger inside and I felt it all more intensely with my blindfold and secured hands.

I bucked upwards in response to his touch, his lips on my throat, and I felt his body, warm, broader than mine, his hair falling softly against me, brushing my skin, and I found my entire body spark when his fingers thrust deep, his voice on my skin.

"Like that?"

I was incoherent to answer beyond a strained noise and he repeated the action, short circuiting whatever brain cells I still had considering his intent this evening. He wanted me like this as another finger joined the first, stretching, scissoring, and I was left with nothing but the ability to focus entirely on the pleasure I was receiving and nothing more. I growled in frustration.

"Want something, 'Ro?"

If I could've reached for him, I would've made my desires obvious and damn clear but instead, I felt his smile against my skin as another finger was added, my body overly sensitive in the darkness.

"You," I murmured and then I felt him move up, his fingers sliding out, and I tried not to tense my body in anticipation but instead of any press into my body, I felt fingers at the blindfold until it dropped away from eyes.

I blinked even though the lighting was not harsh and I saw him leaning over me, his body poised but not touching, tattooed, scarred and punctured by bullet holes. My eyes took in his body like I always did. I liked the fact that he was taller than me, the way he was a little broader in the shoulders and that while he was not as strong as I was, he was very much my equal – and I loved him for it. I let my eyes drift down and I saw the lace panties, scarlet against his skin, and I knew I'd reacted to the sight as he let his hand slide down to the waistband.

"You like?"

I nodded as he began to remove them, a little disappointed that I hadn't been able to touch them.

"Keep them."

"Yeah?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as they were slid off his legs and thrown to the bed, my eyes following where the landed before they returned to him.

He ran his fingers down my sides before he sat back on his heels, reaching for a foil packet on the bed and I shook my head.

"I want to feel you."

He cocked his head and reached to touch my abs. "Okay."

I was glad I could see him even if I could not touch as he lubed his cock, me spreading my legs wide in anticipation as he raised my hips to his thighs so that he could slide in, gripping me tightly.

"Fuck," I whispered as he slid in, me feeling him so damn intensely.

His hands were tight, his braid had fallen on my stomach and his dick was pressing in at a slow pace that meant I could feel every inch of him. His forehead was creased with concentration and he hissed a "damn babe" as he pushed, only stopping when he was balls deep inside me and I was staring up into his blue eyes.

"Couldn't fuck you without seeing those eyes," he said and his hand gently touched my face as he stopped moving, giving me time to adjust and flex, and I wanted to reach out but instead, all I could do was wait, wait for him to make his move.

"Fuck me then."

"I was planning on it," he said and I saw that cocky grin.

In anticipation of his move, I wrapped one leg around his waist and we both moaned at my move – a preview of the pleasure that was to come. He looked at me intently and I returned that gaze as in this moment I was his entirely. And he knew that – knew the level of trust that I placed in him and that he was the only one I would let fuck me like this.

And he moved then, a little slide that felt too damn much after an extended evening of teasing and I gritted my teeth at the sensation.

"You okay?"

"Just fuck me," I growled and he complied then with a smirk, leaning over, his hands at either side of my torso as he thrust his hips forward then back, grunting a little as I jerked at my restraints, sure now I would break them as he pounded into me, me using my leg for leverage to stop me ending up banged into the headboard.

Not that I would care if he did as right now I didn't want anything but him to continue moving, to keep thrusting in and out, his rhythm steady despite the pace and I moaned out his name as well as a few "fucks." I'd never been very articulate during sex but then he reduced me to nothing but begging in curses and repeating his name.

It was then I felt his hands move, his hips rolling to a slower pace, and I was frustrated at that. I wanted him to keep fucking me like that, his dick so hard inside of me, and I tried to move back into him but failed due to his grip. I glared up at him. My glare was rewarded with a sharp, deep thrust forward that undid me and my eyes closed as I saw stars.

"There?"

"Yes."

And while I thought he was going to tease me, he didn't, grabbing at my wrists and undoing them and I flexed my hands briefly before my fingers found his braid and I pulled him down to me, his lips ghosting across mine.

"No more teasing," I said.

His teeth nipped at my bottom lip as he slowly rolled his hips for one more teasing thrust before he moved back, releasing my lip and beginning again at a quicker pace, a pace that I wanted after all this build up. I kept hold of his braid with one hand as I gripped his shoulder with the other, feeling the marks of where he'd been injured once in an explosive blast, where glass had embedded, and I leveraged my foot around his back, digging in so that I could bring him closer to me, push myself up onto him, force him deeper, harder, exactly how I damn wanted him.

He didn't disappoint me, never fucking did, and when he paused, I felt like glaring again until I got his intention, our positions changing so that I was in his lap, his mouth at my throat, his hands running down my back and I took some control back, briefly, close now, bunching my thighs to move up and then down, feeling his teeth rake down my throat and then kisses all over my neck, my jaw, my lips.

The position made my cock rub against his abs and I felt like I couldn't damn touch it to bring myself off, the tight hold in his hair, his shoulder, giving me the necessary grip to keep my body moving in tandem with his timed thrusts upwards and it was when his thighs began to tense, his movement stuttered, that I knew he was about to come. I pulled his face to mine using his hair, kissed him, taking his gasp, his moan into my lips as I felt him, his fingers brushing down to touch me like I wanted. The combination of our tongues fucking each other's mouths and his climax, his fingers, made me shudder against his body, pressing in closer to him as I came, our mouths separating as I did, my breathing ragged.

We didn't speak for a little while, still connected, running fingers over each other's skin, collecting his sweat on my fingertips, raining kisses down on his face and when I moved, my body ached in a satisfying way. I went to the bathroom, showered, him joining me but it was entirely non-sexual, our hands unable to be off each other but not needing a repeat performance – just gentle kisses and knowing touches.

I knew we should change the sheets, water having pooled on them from the ice, but as Duo pulled on shorts and got into bed, I followed suit. Instead of lying on my side, I crawled under the sheets and close to him, pillowing my head on his chest and listening to the beating of his heart. As I settled, I noticed the red from the corner of my eye and lifted the lace panties up.

"Maybe next time you should wear them, 'Ro."

"Or maybe you should let me see you in them," I shot back as I threw them off the bed to the floor.

He chuckled. "Yeah, maybe," he said with a sigh.

I lifted my head up, saw his eyes flutter closed and brushed my lips across his softly before returning to my position on his chest, my head over the black lines of a snake tattoo.

"Or I tie you up," I suggested.

I felt a low rumble in his chest underneath me and I closed my eyes as his hand drifted to play with my hair, running through the back. "Anything you want, babe, I trust you."

There was nothing else to say between us, sleepy post-coital haze blurring the edges of consciousness, but as I started to fall asleep on him there was more to us than lust, than love, there was a complete trust and it was that which made us unbreakable.


End file.
